Craftsmanship in the Executive Suite

Last weekend, when checking out at the supermarket, I impulsively purchased a DVD of  Executive Suite.  This 1953 drama, directed by Robert Wise (The Sound of Music) stars William Holden, June Allyson, Barbara Stanwyck, Fredric March, Walter Pidgeon, Shelly Winters, and more. In addition to being a fantastic film, one of the central themes is craftsmanship.

The movie begins with a subjective camera, from the point of view of corporate president Arthur Bullard. Within the first minute he dies, and the rest of the film details the political maneuverings of the other board members, as they  backstab, blackmail and bribe each other in an attempt to gain control of the company. In the final scene William Holden’s character, an idealistic VP of manufacturing — a man with a heart and integrity —  battles controller Fredric Marsh, a number crunching opportunist who is only concerned with the bottom line.  This is a Hollywood movie and I’m not spoiling the plot by revealing that in the end William Holden (the good guy) wins the new directorship.

This is in stark contrast to the real world, where the bad guys seem to have won: the bottom line rules, the S&L scandal, the Wall Street bailout, the virtual disapperance of US manufacturing.  Many are fearful, feeling we have sold everything of worth, and are warry of an unsustainable future. Idealism and honest work, work that feels meaningful, produces something of worth and quality is on the wane. Even mentioning these sentiments can invoke ridicule at being naive. Of course, many may object why it is the elite board of directors that are debating (and ursurping) these issues rather than the workers themselves, but craftsmen began to loose control of their work, philosophically and pragmatically, long ago, perhaps as early as rules and regulations around trade developed.

In the climatic scene, Holden tears the leg off a chair to demonstrate that poor craftsmanship is cheating our essential drive; to do good work and take pride in it. He challanges us to examine our work life. Do you make something you would be proud to put your name on?  Do you want the dividends report on your tombtone? What involves your attention, interest and devotion? What do you love?  Just a paycheck?  Is this all there is?  What is the alternative?

Craftsmanship, he suggests.  Honest, engaged, thoughtful, skilled craftmanship.  Making something of worth and value the best we are able to. And this is why many of us, myself included, were originally attracted to the idea of craft.  In the early 21st century, many turn to craft, often after pursuing another occupation or profession which proves unfulfilling.  The relationship between conservation and craft (or art and craft, for that matter) is a woefully unexplored, complex topic that deserves much attention. Many have a hope that a life in craft will satisfy something. Why is this skilful manipulation of our physical environment, using tools, so deeply satisfying to so many of us?  And why do so many craftsmen view financial success as virtually incompatible with integrity in craft? I suspect the answers — if any —  may lie in the results of crafting.

Craft is always a battle. External and internal pressures often threaten to crush the soul of craftsman, but this film inspires by exuding the virtues of true craftsmanship, through the medium and the message.

From the Hand to the Machine. Nineteenth-century American Paper and Mediums: Technologies, Materials and Conservation

I wrote a review of Cathleen A. Baker’s new book, “From the Hand to the Machine.  Nineteenth-century American paper and mediums: technologies, materials, and conservation”  in the current issue of  The Bonefolder, Vol. 7, 2011.

Here’s the beginning-

Until recently, I would have assumed that the readers of these words were reading them on paper. But the primacy of paper as the carrier of textually based information is gradually ending, and the words I am writing will likely be read on screens or other non-paper inventions. There seems, however, an inversely proportional relationship in the ways we regard paper itself: the less we look at what is on it, the more we look at paper itself: its substance, structure, tactile qualities and history. Cathleen A. Baker’s book explores in detail the technological artifact that once served quietly as substrate, and now emerges as subject– paper.

Baker has ventured into the enormously difficult and confusing world of 19th century papermaking history, and returned to give us a book that is important, readable, scholarly…” Read the rest of the review.

Hospital Grinder

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One of the many great things about New York City is the plethora of sidewalk vendors.  Recently, amidst a pile of used clothes, I saw this beautifully polished aluminum machine.  I sent some photos to mixed media artist and pathologist  Dr. Charlie Weissman and he speculates:

Never seen this exact machine, but probably dates from the era before most equipment was disposable, now it is easier to dispose of much equipment rather than try to get it sterilized completely and reconditined and sharpened. Looks too large for blood-drawing needles, but there are a variety of round penetrating devices– trocars  and such– for drawing off thicker fluids from various body sites, which could have been reused.  Bone-marrow biopsy needles could have this caliber.  Large biopsy needles for liver and prostate used to be reused. Modern  breast biopsy and brain biopsy needles can be large but they are not reused.  Looks a little large for spinal needle. Interesting.

The arm is adjustable for length, and simple slides back and forth to switch from one wheel to the next, which are three different grits.   It operates at a fairly slow speed, and since the motor is not shielded from the wheels, I’m guessing it was used dry. The clamping mechanism near the wheels forms a 90 degree angle, so it was likely used for round objects.  It even came in a velvet lined, fake leather grain covered wood box with a handle. Stylistically, it looks circa. 1930’s to me.  All for $10.00!